John then brought up Liz’s earlier comment, causing a moment of surprise. “Liz suggested we order in because she didn’t think Mom’s dishes would be good enough.”
A tense silence followed, but my brother quickly broke it with a hearty laugh, smothering his potatoes in gravy. Liz’s face reddened as she became the center of attention. It was clear she was embarrassed, and I felt a pang of sympathy for her. It was her first Christmas with us, and the situation wasn’t ideal.
Later, while cleaning up in the kitchen, Liz came over to me. “Kate, I’m really sorry. What I said was completely wrong. Please understand.”
I looked at her, my hurt still fresh. “Understand what?”
Liz took a deep breath. “I said that because John always praises your cooking. I felt overwhelmed by the delicious smells and panicked. I didn’t want to be compared unfavorably.”
I chuckled softly, trying to ease the tension. “Liz, a boy and his mother’s cooking share a special bond. But I’d be happy to teach you how to cook just like me. My mother taught me everything I know.”
Her eyes lit up. “Really? Even after how I acted?”
“Yes,” I said with a reassuring smile. “We can start fresh.”
I handed her a present by the Christmas tree. Despite the discomfort, I was glad to see that Liz’s actions came from insecurity rather than malice. I believed we could bridge the gap between her and my culinary legacy.
If you were in my shoes, would you have kept quiet until the truth came out, or would you have addressed the issue right away?